


The Greatest Lie Is Us

by PeopleInThatBackRoom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: EngIta - Freeform, Hetalia, ItaEng, M/M, Mentions of GerIta and FrUk, Seme Italy, Uke England, Yaoi, [Italy/England]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleInThatBackRoom/pseuds/PeopleInThatBackRoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two figures. They slowly walk past each other, not sparing a single glance. This has been going on for centuries, though when all good things are asleep, the two meet up, and have another "today". This is the first they've had in a while. It tears them apart, but bounds them even closer at the same time. YAOI: ItaEng (Italy/England) (In that order)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Lie Is Us

Two figures.

They slowly walk past each other, not sparing a single glance.

The earth is hard, and the water is a bitter cold. Lovers sit on benches, holding each other for their dear lives, afraid of letting go, fearing that one might be lost to the cold magic-filled air. The sun is fading from the sky, wiping out any signs of its existence. The lovers leave together, their hands act as if glued together —fear being the perfect glue— holding on tight and not parting for even the slightest of seconds.

 _But_ ,

The two remain.

" _P-Per favore_." the words come in as a shock, and the taller of the two barely has time to register it before the other races to his side. The taller male stays frozen, though his eyes burn at the rim, threatening to spill liquids of the unnecessary.

At least, unnecessary to him.

" _Mi dispiace_ ," He doesn't know why, but this beautiful, acid-green eyed man keeps speaking his language. He corrects himself.

 _His_  beautiful, acid-green eyed man.

"But,  _ti amo_.  _Ti amo_ ,  _ti amo_." these words pain him so. Break him inside out. Though, not because they're fake.

Because, they were real.

They are real.

"I-" twas a cry ignored by both, as light brown eyes focused themselves on one thing:

Rough, red lips.

There was a bliss to this, and the magic-filled air continued spreading its bitter frost soul over them, giving their restless hearts a false security, but a warming one. It lit the fire within them. One that hadn't been taken care of in ages. Their careless, idle hands roam over each other, with no real intent for the moment. Their mouths, however, had no control and were freed as soon as the fire started to burn. It was warm. Everything was so warm and hazy, having it seem like it was only them. Which —in that deathly cold weather— could very well be the truth.

When they parted, it didn't seem as cold as one would think it would on a snowy winter day in November. Nor did it seem as lonely. Still, neither were quite satisfied with a mere... _taste_.

"Say my name," the words caught him and his acid-green eyes by surprise. "Say it."

"Italy." the way it rolled off the tip of his tongue was delectable. Like angels came and named the male themselves.

"No, my real name." The plead did not go unheard, but a breath or two was spared before any action was taken.

"F-Feliciano."

"Who is yours?" the world had froze. There was no exact answer to this question, though there was the preferred one. It hadn't been used in a while, but the way he said it made it seem like a while was only yesterday.

"You are, Feliciano."

They were both lying. Not to each other, but to themselves. What they had —it was fragile. So small and almost helpless. Though, when desire struck, it would be a stronghold. Strong enough to last the night, but only the night.

They fled the chilly scenery, going off into the fading sunlight, finding a shelter big enough to hold their craving, desire, need, want. The place was plain and simple, exactly what they needed to hide from the world. Hiding was only part of their burden, the least heavy to carry. Once behind closed doors, and tattered, icy windows, want began to grow, and their selfish thoughts were unleased through actions.

Lips.

They move in sync, molding together as if made for each other.

Hands.

No longer roam idly but with a purpose. A selfish purpose, but one nevertheless.

Mind.

Ready as it had been centuries ago.

Body.

Burning up with their lust.

Their lust seemed to have effected everything in the cheap motel room, including the just as cheap, creaky bed. The bed lived up to its name as the acid-green eyed male was pushed onto it, temporarily stopped. It didn't last long, and soon there was more stripping, more biting, more sucking, more moaning between the two.

" _Ar-Artù_!" Acid-green eyes freeze, and lock onto the word that was spoken.

His name.

It had been so long —a little too long, in England's opinion— and to hear it fall from Feliciano's lips, was like tasting something sweeten by nature. He wanted to hear more, which made him feel more, sharpening his senses towards the Italian. He began with seducing the neck. A long —but not too long— thing, with a nice glazing-tan glow to it, in contrast to his light, a bit pinkish, skin. He was neither gentle nor rough with it, but was able to increase the moans of the slightly auburn-brown haired male next to him.

Feliciano, on the other hand, wasn't letting go so soon. They had to continue. They had too.

Since, in the end, nobody's really there.

Nobody's real.

" _H-Hah_.." It was quiet, but Feliciano managed to catch it. The small, soft moan of his...his Arthur?

Was that title even rightfully his to say?

He was painfully hard, but could restrain himself. They weren't teenagers anymore, and lust wasn't in control of them as much as in the past. They could restrain and fight it. Lust wasn't the enemy.

Maybe it was the four trembling hands roaming over the two bodies, or the sinful lips gently touching skin. Either way, it all fueled their wants, needs, things dug up from the deepest corners of their minds.

"Artù, can I?" he asks. To his surprise, the Brit nods, laying still and looking up, letting their eyes meet. Every second they are there —together— counts. He carefully lubes his fingers, each standing for a reason.

 _One:_  desire.

The Italian tries to soothe Arthur, as he hisses in pain from being entered for a first in a long time. He knew it was going to hurt, but refused to indulge himself in the thought, not allowing his conscious even the least speck of satisfaction. He was glad Italy was trying to be so gentle, but couldn't help feeling that this was all too wrong. They, were all too wrong. This should have ended centuries ago, but here it was, still alive and burning fiercely, undying.

 _Two:_  recklessness.

The thing that brought them together in their youth, though at the time, they had been another's to hold and cherish, it seemed as it is presently, that they were very much drawn to each other, neither wanting to give up this —foolishness, careless, self-centered, indulgence of feeling. And determine to keep it hidden from the world. Maybe it was the fact that it was in secret, that attracted them. Maybe it was because they couldn't bear to have the other in another's embrace. Or even so, they could have been made to be —which in their eyes would be a hopeless fairy-tale for hopeless romantics and others of that sort. No, fate had given them their soul mates: A perverted, but devoted Frenchman and a no-nonsense, but caring German. It was their arrogance and hearts keeping them from staying true.

 _Three:_  satisfaction.

The conclusion that has had their heads turning right from the beginning. Why was it that this 'satisfaction' had to come from the most unexpected and in the worst case scenario: in hiding but ever-glowing —love? lust? selfishness? The answers were practically endless, the complications making it nevertheless extremely difficult to pinpoint such a thing —but did they even want to know?

By this time Feliciano's appendage is all lubed up, and he begins to enter the Brit that was still looking up at him. This part, by many, is considered the best part. For them, it's also the worst. Not for the feeling their bodies receive, but for parting of ever afterwards, not knowing when they'll have a 'tomorrow' again. They are both moaning and groaning, though the tears staining their faces remove all feelings of lust, gain, bitterness and onward, leaving only a longing sadness and a rejoicing happiness. Both alive for the same reason.

It was the first 'today' in forever.

The Brit's whole body is shaking, while the Italian's is clutching the figure underneath him with his dear life. To afraid that if they let go, their tomorrow could never come. The end is nigh, and both males know neither can stop it. For it was supposed to be this way, especially in the sense of the lives they lead. Feliciano lets go first, and feels sorrow in the fact, he couldn't last longer, for himself, for Arthur. Arthur follows in his lead, not even a minute after, and that leaves them silent, besides the occasional pant or their breathing. They held onto each other, wanting a few more minutes before their day had ended.

Alas, the time came, and the dawn of a new day was approaching. The lovers were back on their benches, and the sun made itself known.

Two figures.

They slowly walk past each other, not sparing a single glance.

Their day is over, and when another will come, who can tell?

Theirs is a mystery to all others, and that way it would stay.

Since the greatest lie of their lives is, and has always been each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fanfic moved from Fanfiction to here!
> 
> I've rather become addicted to this pairing. It doesn't make too much sense, but I can write it as freely as birds can fly.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Italian:
> 
> Per favore (Please)
> 
> Mi dispiace (I'm sorry)
> 
> Ti amo (I love you)
> 
> Artù (Arthur)


End file.
